Laurie Sargent and Billy Conway found their sanctuary under the big sky of rural Montana, and their art echoes the genuine nature of their lives, shared across the miles with their Boston base.
Never Have I Ever suffers from an identity crisis: the show doesn’t want to face that it is just another Netflix teen comedy, albeit with its share of engaging moments.
Like Nina Antonia and Robert Clark, Mark Doty deftly interweaves personal narrative with his literary concerns.
It amazed me that Lee Konitz in his nineties could still find his way through a maze of changes, chorus after chorus, and at the same time be capable of weaving a beautiful, unscripted melody while producing a sound so wide, one could crawl into it.
An admiration for certain defeat permeates much of The Mountain Goats’ album Songs for Pierre Chuvin.
The cumulative message of these heavy metal bands might be: “I see your pandemic, and I raise you one.”
To the Stars is a somewhat formulaic Middle America melodrama, enlivened by inspired and well-directed performances that infuse some radiant life into small town struggles.
Ironically, sheltering at home reminds us that walking through some neighborhoods in Boston is an aesthetically enriching experience.
I’ve always believed that dance has a literature, much like music or drama. Dance’s literature consists of both ideas (choreography) and the execution of ideas (performance).
In Rock Bottom Rhapsody, Pokey LaFarge shows us where all America’s prophetic manias must lead: collapse.